


drabble dump 010

by highboys (orphan_account)



Series: drabble dumps [10]
Category: Danball Senki
Genre: Confessions, M/M, Massage, Persecom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/highboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro is a persecom and Ban makes a decision. | Stiles grudgingly gives Derek a massage. Emphasis on the adjective. | The paparazzi have a field day after a concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drabble dump 010

**Author's Note:**

> Dabbling in persecom!Hiro musings and "the one where..." meme.

**Fandom:** Danball Senki

  
  
  
 **( Ban/Hiro. In which Hiro is a persecom and Ban makes a decision. )**

 

When Ban touches him there, he does not blush. He does not shake and stammer over how Hiro keeps Ban's hand curled carefully bellow his crotch, no arousal or comfort in the touch. "Please," Hiro says, his lips a downward slant, "please."

There are markings on his arms, now, that will never heal. Nothing in his limbs is natural, no bone or blood, only a faulty part of him that keeps beating. It must be his heart, that aches as Ban's eyes shine, moist and wet with tears. Only a heart that must have loved him with a fierce fragility that stutters and stops.

"Are you sure?" Ban asks. He bites his lip, trembling. He touches the base of the switch, and Hiro shudders, _yes_.

It takes a few moments before his mind processes the action; if he could, he would pretend he is drowsy with the aftermath, thoughts jumbled and heavy with the ghost of Ban's breathing. Ban lets him rest his cheek on his lap, like a child.

"Do you remember when I first met you," says Ban, tremulous. "I asked if you were okay and the neighbors thought I was a pedophile." He laughs, sharp, and crooked. "And I was so flustered I couldn't even take care of you that well."

"You thought I was human, too," says Hiro.

"You were," says Ban. "You still are."

It's a kindness, when Ban rubs his thumb against the skin of Hiro's jaw, synthetic, soft. Hiro holds Ban's wrist, carefully, like he can't let go.

"I'm sorry," says Hiro.

Ban whispers something into his mouth, kisses the halting line of Hiro's lips, traces the cracks between his teeth with a gentle tongue. It begins and ends with Ban, and Hiro's eyes flicker, open and shut.

"I only wanted," says Hiro. _Everything, for you_ , he means to say, only his throat fails him.

"No," says Ban, cradling his cheek. "It's okay. I've got you."

It's alright, Hiro thinks. Everything will be alright.

 

 **Fandom:** Teen Wolf

 

**( Derek/Stiles. In which Stiles grudgingly gives Derek a massage. )**

 

“This wasn’t really how I was planning my Friday night to go,” is the first thing Stiles says when he has Derek flat on his back and purring like a _lawnmower_ as he works out the knots in Derek’s muscles. “No, seriously, I want my Friday back. Do you hear me?”

Derek grunts. He barely lifts his head except to squint at Stiles’ pillow cushioned under his chin.

“That good, huh?” Stiles mutters. He digs his nails deeper into Derek’s skin, almost spiteful. “You know, I kinda miss all those times you wouldn’t even let me touch a hair on your head. And when I said you looked tense, _I wasn’t really offering_.”

Derek mumbles something that may or may not be a threat. Stiles punches at his back, and Derek barely flinches.

“I smell massage oil in the bathroom,” says Derek. He twists his neck to look at Stiles.

“Oh my god, don’t you know how to say _please_.”

“Get to it,” says Derek, burying his head back into Stiles’ pillow, and he inhales.

“Asshole,” says Stiles.

He ends up getting it anyway.

 

 **Fandom:** Uta no Prince-sama

 

**( Satsuki/Shou. In which the paparazzi have a field day after a concert. )**

 

They’re hiding backstage when Satsuki breaks the silence. ”You have the worst taste in men,” says Satsuki.

Shou tucks his hat lower, in a vain attempt to hide his red ears. “I know.”

“And the worst timing ever,” Satsuki continues. “You couldn’t have waited until _after_ you took off your mic before confessing to everyone that you wanted to get in my pants?”

“I only said I liked you,” says Shou, flushing. “I’m not a pervert like you!”

“You like this pervert anyway,” says Satsuki. “You _love_ me.”

Shou bites his lip and averts his eyes. He’s smiling, though. “Yeah,” he groans. “I can’t believe I do.”

  



End file.
